


Not Alone

by androgynope



Category: Gorillaz, Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Alcohol, Chest Binding, Dancing, First Meeting, Green Men, M/M, One Night Stand, Packing, Public indecency, Transmen, acedoc, alcohol and drug mentions, cw britney spears oops i did it again, nightclubs, pre dday, pre gorillaz, pre phase 1, pregorillaz, transcharacters, unsafe binding methods, young murdoc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynope/pseuds/androgynope
Summary: All Murdoc wanted at the start of the night was a free drink. But by the end of it, he'd found something far more valuable.





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the problematic squad](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+problematic+squad).

It started in a nightclub.

Murdoc wasn’t huge into the club scene. Sure, it had its perks, the drink, the drugs, the girls. But it also had its downsides, like the drink, the drugs, and when the bouncers would clock his ID and he’d have to spend the night tightly smiling every time security called out ‘The Green Butch One.’ It wasn’t ideal, he knew that, to still have that ridiculous F marker on his ID still, but where was he going to get the money to change it? His last band had kicked him out (again) after he’d tried to shag their drummer (again), so for now, he was flat broke and relying on the horniness of strangers to make sure he didn’t remember his night in the club. The bartenders knew him by now, not a lot of clubs in Stoke-On-Trent, so his choices were limited, but this meant that they didn’t even give him a second glance when he approached the bar. They knew he had no money, and sometimes they’d turn a blind eye, let him sip from abandoned glasses and steal shots before drunkards even realised they were there, but they never served him, what was the point when they got nothing out of it?

So, Murdoc used it to his advantage, stealing a spot on the bar so he could cast his eyes out across the thriving dancefloor to try and spot his next naïve supplier. He was ridiculously sober; he would have drunk hand sanitizer if it would of given him any sort of buzz. He didn’t want to think about how the band had kicked him out, or how his father had stolen his savings from under the floorboards, or how his brother was probably balls deep in some bottle blonde while Murdoc was still trying to figure out how exactly he’d ever get his own balls, so the answer lay in the bottom of a bottle, the only problem was figuring out how to get his hands on that bottle in the first place. Usually, he went for older guys, one’s that wanted to brag about getting a hot young piece of ass, or ridiculously drunken women who had money practically spilling from their bra’s and wouldn’t notice the loss of ten pounds should Murdoc dip a hand in. It always left him feelings a bit grimy, though, having his hands pressed into sweaty, soft mounds of flesh on someone’s chest, always bringing his attention back to those who hand handled his chest in a similar way in these clubs in the past. So, he tended to stick to blokes, one’s that didn’t mind if he kept his clothes on while he got them off.

So when a lanky bloke approached the bar with pointed sunglasses hiding his eyes (though nothing could hide the weapon of a nose poking out from his face), Murdoc straightened up and caught him by the elbow. He was young, younger than Murdoc? Probably. He was dressed like a fucking reality show star, in probably the ugliest jacket and shirt combination Murdoc had ever seen, but something caught his eye. He was green, and as far as Murdoc knew, there weren’t a lot of other green blokes running around, so the fact that he’d never seen this guy before was a bit weird. Sure, Murdoc always slapped the head off those who called him green; he was of “a darker hue”, as he said, but this guy and him, something about them was similar, more than their skin, but that was what had caught his eye first. The guy was tall, which made Murdoc want to curl up in a ball and hide since his Cuban heels barely gave him an extra two inches of height, but his hair looked just as greasy as Murdoc’s own, so that was comforting in itself, watching how the whispy strands brushed the man’s shoulders like filthy curtains. But despite all this, the kid looked like he had money, at least more than Murdoc did, and he was growing desperate, so he spoke to him;

“Y’know it’s a night club right? You look like a prick with y’er sunglasses on.”

The man seemed to stare at Murdoc from behind the dark shades, but then he grinned, exposing one pointed tooth as he did. The man pushed a hand through his long, dark hair (slicked back with grease, which Murdoc felt when that hand moved to rest on his own arm.

“Well, makes it easier to look at short arse’s like you, and not run off in disgust,” the man purred, and something in Murdoc felt like it was melting. Maybe he was pissing himself; no, defineitily not, he knew the feeling of his own urine running down his leg and this was something else altogether. To top it off, he wasn’t even nearly upset with what the man said, even though comments like that usually sent his fists flying. Instead, it made him smirk as he moved closer, trailing a finger down the man’s chest and not thinking twice about the thick fabric of his shirt.

“Well,” Murdoc purred, “If you buy us both a drink, looking at me will get a lot easier, now won’t it?”

The man smiled, and when he moved closer, Murdoc felt his mouth turn as dry as desert sand, practically gasping for any kind of alcohol just to lubricate this strange, incredible, and disgusting interaction.

“Oh? Aren’t you a brave one?” the man laughed, tongue running over his teeth as he leaned one arm on the bar, turned completely towards Murdoc’s shorter body, “And who is this drink for then?”

Murdoc smiled and mimicked his movement, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes, the toe of his boot scuffing the mysterious man’s shoe,

“Murdoc.”

The man smiled wider, and held a hand out to grab one of Murdoc’s and shake it firmly, his sharp nails practically cutting into Murdoc’s palm like knives. He adored how it felt, he wanted to ask him to hold on tighter, but those words needed the helpful hand of vodka to slip out.

“Ace. Now, how about those drinks?”

Naïve idiot with money? Found. Universe -0, Murdoc-1.

One drink. They’re talking. Murdoc learns that Ace was in town for an audition, and that he’s in some show over in the States (which explained that god awful New York accent, Murdoc almost wanted to give Ace his own drink to shut him up. He didn’t.). He also learns that Ace also plays bass, which made Murdoc’s eyes light up as they discussed bass legends and their favourite lines. It had been a long time since he last gotten to talk music with someone he wasn’t planning on sleeping with; he usually would nod and smile while some idiot talked about how he could play Wonderwall before he’d climb them like a tree to shut them up, but he actually /wanted/ Ace to keep talking. Maybe the drink was screwing with his mind, either way, he didn’t care, he liked talking to Ace, and he liked the booze that flowed alongside their conversation.

Two drinks. Murdoc tells Ace about the best pair of tits he’d ever seen in a 1987 issue of Playboy, and exaggerates just how much he got off to the sight of them (it’s not like he hadn’t wanked to them, but certainly not in the same way he was implying as he pumped his fish in front of his groin). Ace laughs and the hand on Murdoc’s shoulder finds its way to the shorter man’s waist. Murdoc doesn’t mind, not at all.

Three drinks. Murdoc had changed his mind; he is definitely planning on sleeping with Ace now.

Four drinks. Murdoc moves closer to shout something into Ace’s ear and finds he doesn’t want to move away when he stops talking. So, he doesn’t. Ace grips his waist while Murdoc rests a hand on his chest, not bothered to pay much attention to the feeling of it. Murdoc felt warm and good and almost sleepy, it had been a long while since someone had bought him four drinks and he hadn’t had the urge to abandon them.

Five drinks. Murdoc drags Ace out onto the dance floor, claiming that the song playing was ‘his jam’ and Ace laughs at him while they practically grind on each-other to the beat of ‘Oops I Did It Again’ by Britney Spears. When the song is over, Murdoc reaches up to take those stupid sunglasses off of Ace’s stupid face. Ace kisses him. He doesn’t mind.

Six drinks. They’re kissing at the bar now. Ace’s hands are on his waist. Murdoc doesn’t mind.

Seven drinks. Murdoc can taste the cheap beer and stale cigarette residue on Ace’s tongue. Ace leans down and whispers something about getting out of the bar. Murdoc is dragging him out before he can even finish his sentence. Ace doesn’t mind.

Flagging a cab down was difficult, especially when Murdoc was semi occupied with Murdoc’s hands on his arse and the press of the other man’s body against his back. He wanted to peel Ace out of those stupid ugly clothes and suck his life out of him through his dick like some sort of oral sex vampire. Maybe he’d had too many rinks judging by the fact that the thought of such a scenario was making him laugh so hard that Ace had to hold him up then. He didn’t care, he was having more fun than he had in years. He just wanted one night of fun, and it seemed like he had found out. It didn’t matter that Ace didn’t know that he wasn’t naturally flat chested; that tape was pulling the mounds of flesh on his chest apart to make it look like he somehow he had pecs to pair with his soft stomach, and that the lump in his jeans was made of silicone and the part of him that was pulsing and aroused was actually a bit further down and more so underneath him than sticking out of his front. Ace didn’t have to know, it would be fine, he would be fine. He shoved away the anxiety, the fear and worry of what could happen once they were out of the public eye, and leaned up to smear their mouths together, almost poking his own eye out with Ace’s spear of a nose. When a cab finally stopped for them, the pair practically poured in, and Ace managed to say the address of his hotel between kisses before he dove onto Murdoc, the pair almost able to taste each other’s lungs with how far their tongues were in the other person’s mouth. Murdoc laughed into Murdoc’s mouth, dizzy from their kisses and all the alcohol running through his veins. His heard was heavy but everything else in him felt so light and free, he wanted this; no. He needed this.

The pair stumbled into the hotel like a pair of baby cows, unsteady on their feet and each using the other to hold themselves up. By the time they managed to clamour into the elevator, Ace wasted no time in lifting Murdoc up by his thighs to press him against the mirror wall and kiss him. The act alone made Murdoc feel like he was about to cum in his pants, legs wrapped around the lanky bloke’s waist as his fingers pulled on that dark long hair, making Ace grunt into his mouth. He felt like an animal, moments away from basically rutting on Ace to get any kind of release. If not for the elevator doors opening behind them, Murdoc felt like he was about to get down on his knees and suck Ace off right there and then. But then he was on his feet, and they were stumbling into Ace’s room.

The room had a different atmosphere than the bar, the bed sheets neatly made but Ace’s clothes thrown haphazardly over an armchair, which made Murdoc smile. Despite the fact that he had been ready to ravage Ace moments ago, suddenly being alone with him made his anxiety rear it’s head, which was more sobering than he’d realised. So he toed off his shoes and smiled as he felt Ace’s lips on his neck, shoving him off somewhat harshly as he moved to open the minibar and pull outa mini bottle of vodka, downing it without much consideration for his liver, or his throat that was left burning in the aftermath. Ace just smiled, and moved to turn the telly on, flicking through channels until it landed on MTV, making Murdoc scowl.

“Turn that crap off,” Murdoc complained as he pulled out another amusing miniature bottle of alcohol and downed that too to keep his buzz alight, tossing the bottle to the ground without much care.

“Shut up, short-arse,” Ace grinned, which made Murdoc almost growl before he leapt at the man and connected their mouths again, laughing as they fell back together onto the soft, clean mattress. Murdoc pulled back, the new alcohol hitting his blood stream and making him giggle.

Hands moved, pulling at clothes and tossing them away. Murdoc was too drunk to even stop Ace, or himself as they pulled off each other’s clothes. They were both drunk out of their minds, barely able to see and just communicating by touch, hands pushing over skin, gripping, squeezing, pinching, stroking. He didn’t think about the questions that might arise when Ace say the tape keeping his chest flat, hell, he barely remembered that he had it taped at all. When Murdoc felt his pants slide off with the aid of Ace’s long hands, he moved to kiss the other man again, and murmured, “I like you,” against his mouth before he flopped back on the mattress.

Why did ceilings always have such weird patterns on them?

That was his last thought before he fell victim to an alcohol induced stream of unconsciousness, and the darkness swallowed him up before anything more could happen with the man who had paid his way to numbness all night long. 

The thing that usually woke Murdoc up was the sunlight that would creep into his bedroom through the crack in his curtains, which usually triggered his automatic reaction of throwing whatever was closest at the window until he realised that wouldn’t actually help and he probably ought to get up and get some water before the hangover truly settled into him. But this morning, he was awoken by a kick to his shin, and he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes and sat up, head pounding. The night before was a blur, he’d met someone, hadn’t he? Well, he must have, who else would be in bed with him? He wasn’t exactly rich in friends that would sleep in bed with him naked. Naked.

His blood ran cold as he looked down at himself. He was naked. Someone had seen him absolutely, totally naked. Had they shagged? Reaching down between his legs, he felt nothing but his own warm skin, and let out a sigh of relief. There was no ache, no trace of any kind of bodily fluids, so he hadn’t had sex. Good. But sleeping naked next to someone who likely didn’t know about his, gender situation, wasn’t exactly something that made him feel at ease. Carefully, Murdoc climbed out of the bed, gripping onto the nightstand as nausea rushed through him and his head felt like it was collapsing in on itself. Had he drunk a lot, or had he just mixed spirits with liquor and beer? Never a good combination. He grunted softly, doing his best to be quiet as he reached for his underwear on the ground, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw his packer was intack in the soft fabric. He pulled the pants up over his arse before he found the rest of his sweaty clothes that reeked of too many things for Murdoc to figure out what they really were, all he knew was the smell made him feel sick an he needed to have a shower. But not here, he didn’t need whoever that guy was to know about his body. He didn’t need to get into a fist fight when he was so hungover. Only stopping in the bathroom for a moment to gulp water from the tap (which certainly was a bad idea and did not taste great either), Murdoc managed to leave without waking the other, and was left to do the walk of shame back to his dingy childhood hope, desperately hoping his father wasn’t there to berate him as he usually did.

Flashes of the night before reared their heads in his mind, memories of dancing and kisses and laughter. It made Murdoc smile, despite the fact that he had no idea what that man’s name was. Something told him it was something beginning with an A; Alex, Adam, maybe Arnold? But none of those sounded right. Regardless, it didn’t matter, Murdoc would never see him again and he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted, a night of free booze, the human connection they’d shared was just a bonus.

It was only as Murdoc peeled his clothes off in the grimy bathroom buy his bedroom that something struck him as odd. His pants were awfully tight. Looking in the mirror, he wondered of he’d suddenly gained weight overnight, as those red pants stared back at him, mostly clean and unstained. Murdoc didn’t own any red pants, and he certainly didn’t own a single item of clothing that wasn’t at least partially stained. The realisation made him frown; if these pants weren’t his, how was it that he’d found his packer tucked snuggly inside?

Pushing the pants off, Murdoc plucked the silicone replica of a penis from the fabric. It was big enough (and Murdoc wasn’t one to brag but, he knew if he had a dick made of flesh and blood it certainly wouldn’t be small), but his own was smaller, more subtle, less noticeable. Packing for him wasn’t so everyone would stare at his dick, just a way for his crotch to look a bit more filled ut should anyone glance below the belt. So, whose dick was this?

On the side, crudely drawn in sharpie, was a playing card, with an A on it. An Ace.

Ace.

Holy fucking shit.

What had started in a nightclub, ended with Murdoc Niccals holding someone else’s silicone cock in his hand, and wondering what the fuck he was going to do about the other trans guy he’d almost shagged last night. But it made him smile, and despite knowing it was cheesy, he looked down at the packer with a smile.

He wasn’t alone. There was another green skinned fucker out there who felt lost in his body just like Murdoc did, and the man would be damned if he didn’t track him down (once he took some painkillers an they kicked in.) Murdoc let out a joyful laugh and ignored how it made him wince, putting the packer down on the sink. He’d go back to the bar tonight and hopefully he’d find the other. Hopefully he’d get his dick back. Hopefully he’d get another snog. Hopefully he’d get a shag before he passed out.

Regardless, looking down at that crude piece of plastic, Murdoc felt a warmth in his chest that had never been there before. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. He would never feel alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> DON'T FUCKING TAPE BIND - with ace bandages/duct tape. I bind sometimes with KT tape but either that or Transtape is the only kindof safe method of tape binding, but it's still not ideal. Bind safely!
> 
> anyway look at these dumb trans idiots being all gay and stupid we love green men in this house


End file.
